


The story of how Sansa Stark fucked up big time

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Pregnancy, Sansa/Margaery if you want, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2907590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa escapes King's Landing and an abusive relationship, returning home to Winterfell for the first time in months. Later, she will discover she's pregnant- and it's Joffrey's child. What in the fuck is she to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The view outside the train window hardly looked real. The patches of wildflowers, the old faded paint on the buildings, how depressingly grey the sky was. For the past few months, the idea of returning here seemed as silly as wishing to turn into a fairy princess. Sansa Stark had so many fairy princess dolls when she was little, and spent all her time dressing up in her glittering blue dress and her mother’s makeup. She had longed for a fairytale come to life. As she grew, her dreams were of college and success, of making her family proud. 

When she’d arrived at The University at The Red Keep however, that little girl inside her came back out to play, squealing with delight when Joffrey Baratheon asked her on a date. For a while, she allowed herself to ignore his arrogant, bratty behavior, and just get lost in his lovely green eyes. She even stupidly accepted when he asked her to marry him- she was in her freshman year of college, for gods sakes! In those months, the bruises on her pale skin grew in number, as did the times she wished she could just pack up and leave for Winterfell. 

She was overcome with relief when Joffrey abruptly dumped her for Margaery Tyrell, and had immediately fled for her home at the start of summer, having already transferred to the University of Riverrun where her brother Robb was studying. She got to her feet and shuffled to the train door, clinging to the handle on the luggage rack as if to keep herself from floating away. The platform began whizzing by, and the train car glided past a woman with dark red hair bundled in a navy coat.

“Mom,” she whispered, catching her balance as the train stopped. The door slid open, and Sansa ran, dragging her suitcases behind her with one hand, waving frantically with the other.

“MOM! MAMA!” her mother turned, and began walking briskly toward her.

“Sansa! Oh, my baby girl,” Sansa dropped her suitcase, and flung herself into her mothers arms, crying her eyes out. Maybe they were tears of happiness. She didn’t know.

“Mama, where is everyone?” Joffrey had insisted that Sansa change her phone number, so she had no idea how her family had been for the last few months.

“Bran and Rickon are in that bakery over there. I let them have cupcakes, and now I’m not exactly sure that was a good idea. Robb and Jon are at college, and Arya’s been going to a boarding school in Braavos.”

“Braavos?”

“She wanted to go for the intensive martial arts program.” Arya was an annoying little twirp, but right now, the thought of her sister made her smile. She followed her mother down the steps and across the parking lot, ducking through the doorway of the little bakery, and was barely two steps inside when a flying child nearly knocked her to the ground. Rickon wrapped his limbs around her like he was climbing a tree, and hugged the breath out of her lungs.

“Oh! Rickon! God… ok… good to see you too… need to sit down…” she choked out, getting a good look at her youngest brother when he got off. He was twelve now, all chesnut hair, freckles, and braces, smiling like the sugar crazed nutball he was.

“Sansa!” Bran was hopping up and down, as much as he could for a boy in a wheelchair, holding his arms out for a hug. He’d gotten taller, his hair had gotten darker, yet he was the same boy she’d left all those months ago.

“Aw, Bran,” she answered, bending over to embrace him.

“We got some lemon cakes,” he said, handing her the plate of sweets, which Sansa immediately started devouring. It wasn’t until she got home at spent her first night in forever going to sleep in her own bed that she allowed herself to completely break and sob happily into her pillow.

~*~*~

She was staying home today that was for sure, she knew, breathing heavily, kneeling over the toilet. Ugh. She’d usually go out with Jeyne and Mya, but not today, seeing as the universe wanted to shit on her. She shakily collected her hair in one hand, holding it out of her face as she bent over, puking again. 

“Sansa?” That was her mother, running up the stairs. Sansa sat back on her heels,

“Yeah.” She rubbed her disgustingly clammy hands against her temples, letting out a huff of air.

“What did you eat last night? Are you sick?”

“Probably just the stomach flu, mama, I’ll be fine.”

“Well you know the drill. At least two naps today, stay away from dairy, eat crackers and juice when you feel better. Understand?”

“Kapeesh.” She brushed her hair, and knotted it up into a messy bun, retreating into her room again. She’d only been home for two weeks, yet she felt like a high schooler again. She collapsed into the fluffy sheets, raising one leg and leaning it against the wall. Wow. She really needed to repaint her toenails. She couldn’t very well do that when the pains in her stomach rivaled that of her period. Wait. 

Sansa grabbed her phone, and opened the calendar app. The last time she had her period was- OH FUCK. No, no, no, no she wasn’t pregnant- oh god, and if she was that meant- oh no. No. It was beyond her human mind’s capabilities to imagine an alternate reality in which Joffrey fucking Baratheon knocked her up. This could not be happening. Joffrey was a slimy, abusive demon- and the lump of life nestled in her uterus right now, was 50% Joffrey. 

The thought of him made her shake with fear, and the thought of having him father her child was- she curled her knees into her chest, and before long, her breathing was out of control and the world was beginning to fade in and out of view. There was a drawer of knives downstairs, maybe she could cut the little gremlin out of her body, taking her own life in the process. Her phone chose that moment to start chirping its ringtone, and a picture of Margaery Tyrell popped up on the screen. Sansa waited a few seconds to control herself before answering.

“Hey Margie,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound like the apocalypse had just started, which as a matter of fact- it had.

“Hello, Sansa,” Margaery’s silky voice greeted her, “I’m in Winterfell this week, I’m staying in the hotel across from the movie theater. I was thinking maybe the two of us could pop out for lunch or have a girl’s night on the town, that sort of thing?” Even though Margaery was Joffrey’s new girlfriend, Sansa knew she was only in it for the power and the money. Besides, someone like Margaery could handle him much better than Sansa ever could. There weren’t any hard feelings between the two girls- in fact, Margaery had been her only true friend at The University at The Red Keep.

“Yeah, that sounds great, but I was actually feeling a little tired today. Maybe you could come over and we can watch movies together, you know.”

“Oh, of course. That would definitely work. How about I come over at two?”

“Would you mind um, dropping into the pharmacy to pick something up for me? I’ll pay you back.” She could trust Margaery, or at least she hoped to hell she could. 

“Anything for you, Sansa. What is it?”

“It’s um…”

“You need condoms? Because I could just get a few out of my purse.”

“No, I actually-”

“Birth control?” Damn. Why didn’t I ever think of birth control?, she thought, cursing her stupidity

“Could you get a few...” C’mon, Stark. Spit it out. “Ya know… pregnancy tests?”

“Sure. Wait. Have you been seeing another boy yet?”

“No,” she squeaked, clutching the phone.

“Oh. Then- Oh shit. SHIT. SHIT INDEED.”

“I dunno what to do, Marge…” She whimpered into the phone through her tears, “I can’t stand it. Not if it’s with him.”

“Aw, Sansa, shhhhhh! You know what? I’m coming over now.”

Sansa hiccupped, “You don’t even know where I live.”

“I’ll figure it out. See ya in half an hour, OK?” The phone beeped, and Sansa stared at her empty room, fighting the urge to call Margaery again, just to hear another friendly voice to keep her sane. She didn’t even realized that she’d passed out cold until her mother urgently knocked on her door, waking her. 

“Sansa, your friend Margaery is here!” Sansa crossed the room, opening the door to find her mother standing in the hall with her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed.  
“You can’t have friends over when you’re sick, Sansa!”

“I feel fine now mama, honestly. Think it was just something I ate.” Her mother sighed.

“I guess I can’t very well send her back now that she’s sitting in the living room. Take her upstairs please. I have a business call in ten minutes.” Sansa nodded, and crept meekly down the stairs after her mother.

“Hi Marge,” she said, and it came out sounding strangely casual, as if there was nothing to be concerned about in that plastic bag poking out of Margaery’s purse. Right. They were just two girls, in a completely normal situation, about to go up the stairs for an afternoon of talking about boys. Well, that last bit wasn’t entirely wrong. Oh god. 

The two of them slipped into the bathroom, and Sansa felt as if she might just vomit up her pounding heart. Hell to the poor soul who’d have to clean that up. 

“I got you four different tests, just for extra accuracy OK?” Margaery pulled the boxes out of her purse, setting them on the counter. Sansa wanted nothing more than to take whoever decided to paint the boxes in cheerful, bright colors, and kick them in the stomach. 

“Right. So how much do I owe you?” Margaery waved her hand,

“It’s ok, I don’t mind.” She’d already opened the first box, and handed Sansa the test.

“You know how those things work, right?”

“Yeah, I went to health class in eighth grade. Um, would you mind?” She asked, making a twirling motion with her finger.

“Oh, sorry,” Margaery replied, turning her back to the toilet. It was awkward, holding the little piece of plastic fuckery down there while trying not to pee on her hand. Cringing, she removed the dripping stick, and bundled it in a wad of toilet paper.

“Uh, Marge?”

“You OK?”

“I’m fine. Do you have water or something? I have to pee three more times, right?”

~*~*~

“It’s a child, Marge, a child! And I’m gonna have to take care of it, and it’s probably gonna look like him, and I won’t be able to bring myself to love it!” She takes a deep shaky breath, feeling the tears washing over her skin, and continues, “There is a fucking life form with fucking multiplying cells and shit nesting in my uterus, and I want to die. Marge, I’m going to sit on the train tracks tonight, you should tell my mother I love her.” Margaery pulled her into a hug, and Sansa lost it, bawling her eyes out there on Margaery’s shoulder. Sansa’s blood roared like the ocean in her head, and the sweet words of comfort coming from her friend went in one ear and out the other. 

“I dunno what to do.” Sansa choked out for the second time that day.

“Well, you have three options,” Margaery said, sounding put together and calm, “You can get an abortion and carry on with your life and it will be like it never happened. You can have the baby, and give it up for adoption, or you can keep the baby. And don’t worry, if you decide to keep it, I’m sure you will be able to love it. More than anything in the world. Your mother loves you, right?”

“I don’t know what to tell her.”

“We can do it right now, OK? The sooner the better.”

“Marge, she’ll disown me.”

“Shh, don’t say that!”

“For fucks sake, Marge, I’M PREGNANT!”

“I’m sorry, Sansa. You know what? I can help you make an appointment at the planned parenthood clinic tonight, we get clean this mess up, and it can all be a thing of the past if you like.” Sansa swallowed back a sob, and pressed a hand to her perfectly normal stomach.

“But… I can’t just get rid of it…”

“Then you’ve got to tell your mom, haven’t you?”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them are standing before Catelyn in the kitchen, probably looking guilty and suspicious as hell, Sansa is sure. 

“Mrs. Stark,” Margaery starts, giving Sansa a gentle nudge, “Sansa wants to tell you something, doesn’t she?” Sansa gulps and stares at a bit of dust drifting around the floor.

“Mama, I- uh… while I was at college I sort of-” Catelyn waves her hand,

“Someone offered you weed at a party, and you accepted it because why the hell not. We’ve all been there. Including myself.”

“Mom!” 

Her mother blinked, “Wait, that wasn’t it?” The fear and the shame comes creeping back, and Margaery rubbed her hand over her back.

“I think it’s better if you just come right out and say it, Sansa.”

“Joffrey’s the father, isn’t he?” Her mother asked, and Sansa feels so relieved and yet so terrified at the same time. All she can do is nod, and stare at her feet. And then her mother is wrapping her in a hug, and Sansa lets the relieved tears stream out- probably the millionth time she’s cried today. What a wreck.

“You’re grounded for a month, you know that?” Sansa sniffles,

“Yeah.”

“Wait, what?” A new voice says, and the three of them turn to see Bran sitting in the doorway, Rickon behind the wheelchair. 

“My darlings, I’m just going to cut to the chase. Sansa’s pregnant.” Sansa pulls a chair out from the table, and sits, leaning her head in her folded arms. She can practically feel the room heat with Rickon’s wild anger, and she doesn’t have to look to know he’s yanked a knife from a drawer, and is running out the door, hollering a battle cry.

“RICKON YOU DUMB SHIT,” Bran yells after him, “YOU CAN’T JUST RUN TO KING’S LANDING!”

“Bran! Dollar! Swear jar! Now! RICKON STARK YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! I ALREADY HAVE ONE PREGNANT CHILD I CAN’T HAVE THE OTHERS COMMITTING MURDER!” She can hear Margaery sit down next to her, and she lifts her head, taking some comfort in Margaery’s sweet smile. The other girl pushes a glass of juice to her,

“I think it’s best if we don’t tell Arya yet.”

“Or Robb.”

“Or Jon.”

World war 3 was not needed right now.


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa sat in her usual place at the lecture hall- the very front, alternating between taking notes on her laptop, and nibbling clementine pieces. Citrus was good for babies’ brains. At least, that’s what her mother claimed. Sansa had no idea whether she was going to keep it, but she wanted to do her part in giving the child the strongest start possible. She went on a strict diet- no caffeine, no alcohol, no seafood, plenty of fruit. Children tended to crave the food their mothers ate while pregnant. Sansa didn’t want her baby growing up on chips, pie, and chocolate, tempting as it sounded. She didn’t tell Joffrey. There was no way she was letting a crazed psycho into her child’s life just because they shared DNA. 

“Miss Stark,” her professor handed last week’s paper back, “A as usual,” Sansa smiled to herself, and tucked the paper away in her bag, and leaned back in her chair. She wanted nothing more right now than to get to her dorm, pass out, and stay that way for a few years. Wouldn’t it be great if humans could hibernate? You would get extremely fat, and just sleep for three months straight every year. That sounded like heaven.

“Who’s the daddy?” Sansa snapped back to reality, and saw the blue haired kid in the seat next to hers giving her a look.

“Excuse me?” 

He gestured to her stomach, “Not that you’re showing or anything, but who’s the father?” Sansa looked down, and realized that she’d folded her hands protectively over her belly.

“I’m not pregnant,” she retorted, glaring at him. Her hands immediately went to her sides.

“Oh!” The kid was blushing now, “Sorry.” Sansa sighed and tilted her head up, looking at the lights.

“But really, you don’t look fat. At all. Sorry again.”

Sansa snorted, “No problem.” She was fat though. Four months along, she wasn’t big enough for it to be obvious, but just enough to look chubby. She tried her best to hide it with sweaters and dresses, but she dreaded the moments when she got out of the shower and had to face her naked reflection. The class was dismissed, and she got to her feet, walking briskly to the bus stop. Her phone began ringing, and she picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sansa!” 

“Margie!”

“How’s everything?”

“I only have one C. Everything else is an A.”

“Woah. I’d clap for you, but I’m in the middle of the subway.”

“My mom’s been taking me to doctors appointments, and she put me on a diet.”

“She hasn’t disowned you!”

Sansa laughed, “I know. Miracle right there.”

“Joffrey and Cersei don’t know squat if you’re wondering.”

“Thank god.”

“Have you decided yet?”

“I really don’t know. I want kids, but maybe just not right now. I’m doing really well, I’m on a winning streak here, and I’ve still got another five years to go. I don’t want to have to worry about a baby as well.”

“I’ve been looking through that site I found.”

“Yeah?”

“I found a few people I think you might like.”

“Go. Shoot.”

“Couple from the Trident, about a forty-five minute drive from your dorm. Financially stable, house has a big yard, they have two dogs, and ah- three other kids.”

“Nope.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. We’ve got a couple of vets from Dorne. They seem like a lovely bunch based on their page. Don’t have any kids of their own, and both are experienced in child care.”

“Dorne’s too far.”

“Single mom living in the suburbs of King’s Landing-”

“Hell no. You know what? Why don’t we just wait until we meet up and we can do this together.”

“That makes sense.”

“I really appreciate it, Margie!”

“Glad I could help! I have to go now. I’m approaching the lair.” 

“The lair?”

“Yeah. Cersei’s office. I’m gonna hang up now, OK?”

“Bye!” Oh god. Maybe it would be easier to just keep the baby.

“Sansa!” She whirled around, her eyes nearly popping out of her head,

“Robb?” She took the few seconds before he hugged her to bundle her sweater around her middle to mask the feel of her slightly swollen belly. He pulled away, and had apparently noticed nothing. She was sighing with relief on the inside. Robb was beaming. They’d talked on the phone, but she hadn’t actually seen him since last year. He gripped her by the shoulders, looking at her with a giddy energy in his eyes.

“Aw I was so worried about you!” He pulled her close, and kissed her on the forehead, “I’m saving up to buy a tank to smash down Baratheon’s door and shoot his brains out!” he announced proudly, and Sansa mentally cringed. What the hell was he going to do when she finally told him?

“Yeah, Robb, I love you and all, but that isn’t legal.”

“The way he treated you is illegal too.”

“Except you can’t get life in prison for hitting your girlfriend.”

“If I get life in prison, my first thought is going to be about how totally worth it that was.”

“Whatever, Robb. Just make sure his new girlfriend is out of the house when you nuke it. She’s my friend.”

Robb frowned, “She is?”

“Yep. I’ll see you around, OK?”

“We should go do something together! We could go for lunch or go to the movies, or we could put saran wrap over the toilet in Jon’s room so that he-”

“Robb, that’s disgusting.”

“You’re legally an adult now! You should come to the bar with me and my friends sometime!” 

“Um… nah… how about we just stick to movies and things like that?”

Robb frowned, “They’re not gonna card you or anything. I could buy it for you.”

“So! I’ll see you around then, huh? Bye!” She hugged him briefly, and hopped on her bus, waving at him from the window. Phew. That was close. She put her earbuds in and started her music, slipping back into that position that nearly gave her away, curling her hands over the small swell of her belly.


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa typed furiously. They were given thirty minutes of class time to get started on this essay, and she was either going to take full advantage of it, or give herself carpal tunnel while trying. Every five minutes or so, she had to stop to adjust her sweater, not daring to make eye contact with the blue-haired boy next to her. Five months along, and it was noticeable that she was pregnant. Thankfully, the kid was keeping his mouth shut. Good move there, buddy. Good move. 

As she typed away, she felt the tiniest little flutter from the baby’s general location. It could’ve just been a figment of her imagination, so she tried not to get too excited over the tiniest little- Sansa let out a tiny squeak as she felt what was undeniably a sharp kick. She began to get nervous, as if it only now occurred to her that thing was ALIVE. Yeah, she’d seen the little thing in ultrasound pictures, but it was like the baby was making sure she didn’t forget about its existence by jabbing her in the ribs. Sansa winced, and set a hand on her belly, as if she could somehow calm the baby down.

“Hey, Sansa,” the blue haired kid said, and she bundled her sweater over herself as if to prove to him that she wasn’t pregnant when she obviously was.

“Hello,” she greeted, refusing eye contact. The kid scribbled something on a sheet of paper, and handed it to her.

Sansa frowned, “What’s this?”

“Um- sorry in advance for all the prying- it’s my aunt’s contact information. She really wants a child, but she can’t have one of her own, so maybe you could get in touch or something? I dunno.” He settled back into his seat, huddling over his laptop as if that bit of social interaction was enough for the next week.

“I never actually caught your name, even though you always sit here,”

“My name’s Aegon, but everyone calls me Griff for some reason.” 

She smiled, and pocketed the slip of paper, “Thank you, by the way.”

~*~*~

God, that kid had awful handwriting. She squinted at it on the bus, feeling like a first grader struggling to read. From what she could tell, it said

“Daenerys T-(something or another), (471) 9986230, Dany_Storm@gmail.com, 370 Abilene Dr. Dragonstone” 

Sansa shrugged. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it? She’d been meaning to do her research to find some parents for the baby, but thanks to all her school assignments, she kept putting it off. She dialed the number and leaned against the window of the bus, biting her lip.

“Hello?”

“Is this Daenerys?”

“Yes it is, miss.” the woman was from Valyria, judging by the soft accent, “Who is this?”

“My name’s Sansa Stark- your nephew Aegon gave me your number. I’m in class with him.”

“Aegon, huh?”

“He said something about you wanting a baby?”

There was a pause. Well, one could guess that she didn’t often get calls from girls offering her children. 

“He did?” Sansa could hear her excitement.

“Well, I got pregnant five months ago, and I’m looking for some parents for the little thing.” Oh god. Hopefully, this wasn’t too forward.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet? Is it healthy?”

“I don’t know yet, and yeah, it seems to be doing fine.”

“You said your name was Sansa Stark right? Hang on a moment, let me get a pen. Sansa… Stark. How old are you, sweetheart?”

“I just turned nineteen.”

“Where are you from?”

“Winterfell.”

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to visit Winterfell sometime. Haven’t gotten around to it yet. Could you come over next weekend? I’m free on Sunday.” Well, driving to Dragonstone would certainly be an adventure.

~*~*~

“Holy shit.” Margaery breathed when they pulled up in front of 370 Abilene Dr. 

“You can say that again,” Sansa replied, as the two of them gawked up at the palace of while stone and red curtains that was Daenerys’s house.

“Holy shit,” Margaery said, “She never mentioned all THIS, did she?” she waved her arms in a wide circle, and whistled in appreciation. 

“Sansa look at this! The mailbox says Targaryen. Damn! No wonder.” She started up the path, tugging a very nervous Sansa along. Margaery rang the bell, and Sansa did her best to hide behind her friend. Leave it to Margaery to be charming and sweet and make good first impressions. The door was answered by a girl around their age in a prim white dress and heels, her frizzy dark hair pinned up in a bun. She frowned at them,

“I didn’t expect anyone to call in for a visit today…” she muttered, and scrolled through her phone. 

“It’s alright, Missandei, it isn’t for business,” another woman said, and shooed the girl out of the way. “Sansa Stark?” The woman said- she was rather short actually, with silvery-blonde hair curling over her shoulders.

“Um, no actually,” Margaery said, pushing Sansa up to the doorstep, “This is Sansa, I’m just a friend.” Daenerys’s face grew into a welcoming smile,

“Well, in you come then! It’s windy!” She put a hand on Sansa’s lower back, ushering her inside. The entrance to the house was a spacey and minimally decorated area, and when she tilted her head, she could see paintings of dragons on the ceiling. Her half-brother Jon would certainly appreciate that if he were here. He had this weird fascination with dragons. 

The room they were led into was thankfully smaller and had a more homey feel to it. Daenerys seated herself on a couch, and gestured to the one across the table from it. Sansa sat down delicately, and it suddenly came to her attention how dry her throat was. 

“Tell me a bit about yourself, Sansa darling,” Daenerys requested, leaning back in the chair, getting comfortable.

“Like what? About the baby or-?”

“Just about you, Sansa. If I have a child, I want to be able to answer any questions they have about their birth mother.”

“Well, I grew up in a big old house in Winterfell with five siblings.”

“Five?”

She giggled, trying to unwind the hot coil of nerves in her head, and just talk. “I have an older brother- Robb, and older half brother- Jon, my baby sister Arya, and two younger brothers named Bran and Rickon. Bran fell off the side of a building when he was ten, and he’s been in a wheelchair ever since.”

Daenerys’s eyes widened, “Well, on the bright side, he’s got one hell of a story to tell at dinner parties.”

Sansa swallowed thickly, continuing, “We’ve all got pet huskies, except me- mine was put down. And then, when I was fifteen, my dad was hit by a motorcycle. Arya was right there too. She saw the whole thing.” Daenerys nodded, but didn’t say anything. 

“So, we just tried to carry on with life as usual. Robb is in college, getting what he needs to take over dad’s company, Jon is at Castle Black on The Wall, and I started at the University at The Red Keep last year.” She picked at her nail polish, forcing herself to keep going. The talking helped something in her. 

“And I met my first boyfriend there, his name was Joffrey Baratheon.”

“Baratheon…” Daenerys repeated slowly, shifting her position, crossing her legs and leaning forward, “Go on, Sansa.”

“I thought he was so perfect. He was cute when he smiled.” she tilted her head, “He was cute even when he didn’t smile, actually. He asked me on a date, and I said yes right away. Arya never liked him. She said a bunch of his friends beat up her friend Micah, so she set her Nymeria- her huskie on him. Joffrey’s mother claimed Nymeria was a rabid animal and needed to be put down, but they never found her. Arya made sure of that. So they killed my dog instead.” Sansa sucked on her bottom lip, forcing back the tide of emotions sweeping in from Lady’s memory. All the loopy hormones weren’t doing anything to help either.

“And then, I convinced myself he was my soulmate, so I stayed with him. He didn’t like it when I talked to my family. So he changed my number.”  
She took a deep breath, “Sometimes, when he was in a bad mood, he would hit me. ‘You’re pretty when you cry’ he always said… Even though he hit me, he was always the one to comfort me afterwards.” She sniffled, suddenly realizing that she was crying again. Margaery slipped her hand across the surface of the couch, and stroked her wrist gently.

“It’s alright, Sansa, you can trust me,” Daenerys said, and even though she’d only known the woman for one day, and she should have learned not to trust people so easily, the rest came spilling out.

“One day he came home, and he told me to take my clothes off, so I did. He poked me in the belly, and squeezed my arms, and said I was getting fat, and from now on, I was to only- eat one meal a day.” her voice started getting shrill and choked, but she kept going, 

“Once… once he starved me for five days, and when I did it, he told me what a good girl I was, and as a reward I could suck his- you know.” She dropped her hands by her sides, and threw her gaze to the ceiling, shaking her head, “For some reason- I thought I was in love!” Margaery took her hand, and though she said nothing, Sansa could tell how shocked she was. She’d never told anyone before. Not her mother, not Jeyne, certainly not Arya or Robb. 

“I thought I was in love with him. Just like a fairytale, huh? He asked me to marry him in late April, and I was a stupid little girl. Stupid little girl with stupid dreams who never learns!” The tears clogged her throat, and Margaery pulled her onto her shoulder, rubbing her back.

“I said yes. I said yes, and not two weeks later, he woke me up, and tossed me a suitcase. I expected to be heartbroken… because he left me for another girl. But the crippling sadness never came, so the first thing I did was call my mom, and beg to come home. I didn’t tell her much, just that… I got hurt pretty deeply… and I wanted to see my home again. So I went home, I saw my family, and everything was normal for two weeks. And then… this happened,” she gestured to her belly, “I decided not to tell Arya, Robb or Jon. Yet.” 

The room fell silent, Sansa sitting back, wiping her tears, Margaery clutching her hand, and Daenerys sitting very still and thinking very hard. 

“Well,” Sansa said weakly, shrugging, “There you have it.”

“I take it you never told Joffrey?”

“Of course not.”

“Is his new girlfriend doing alright?”

“Playin’ him like a flute,” Margaery murmured, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

Daenerys looked extremely confused, “Wait. So-”

“Yeah. She's his new girlfriend.”

“Right then.” she sat up taller, folding her hands in her lap, looking professional, “I’m going to arrange to pay for all your medical expenses, anything you need, and if it’s alright with you, maybe we can visit you in Winterfell as the baby grows.”

“Don’t we need an attorney for this sort of thing?”

“I am an attorney.” Sansa only then noticed the framed diploma and various certificates on the walls. Well, duh.

“I’m going to text Missandei now, that’s my assistant. Get those forms down here.”

“Daenerys?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you like- have a husband?”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve never understood why people apologise for things are aren’t their fault.”

~*~*~

“So let me get this straight,” her mom berated over the phone, “You ran off and signed a bunch of adoption forms without my knowledge? I am your mother, Sansa!”

“I’m an adult, mama. I can sign things now.”

“You got. A mother. For the baby. Without. My. Knowledge.”

“Yes, yes I did,” she chirped, “And she’s a lovely young woman by the name of Daenerys Targaryen. She lives on Dragonstone and works as an attorney, does loads of charity work, and owns a house the size of Robb’s ego.”

“And just like Robb’s ego, it is most likely not child-proof. You really should let me help with these things! You need-”

“Motherly wisdom?”

“Exactly!”

“She really is lovely, mama. She doesn’t have any other kids, she’s a successful independent woman, she speaks three languages-”

“Oh, Sansaaaaaa…..”

“Hey, mama, the baby has a mom, she’s paying for all the medical bills, and it all got done without anything blowing up, I think we can declare today a productive day.”

“Don’t pull anything like this again.”

“Are my siblings still oblivious?” she asked, eager to change the subject.

“Yes they are, they’ll know when you’re all home for Christmas. And don’t think you’ve gotten out of this, young lady!” 

Sansa rubbed a hand across her belly, “You hear that, you little shmuck?” she whispered to the baby, “We’re about to get grounded again! Yayyyyyy!!!!” The baby kicked and squirmed in response.

“Sansa Stark, do not call the baby ‘shmuck’.”

“Yes, mama.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LOL finally. Here ya have it, kids.

She’d finished the semester with straight A’s, managed to walk all over the place even though the pains in her feet were enough to kill, and she’d kept her head up when people looked down on her with pity. Out of all those, the accomplishment she was most proud of was the way she’d successfully avoided Robb like the plague. They talked on the phone sometimes, but it was such a shame that Sansa had study group at the same time Robb was free during the evenings, wasn’t it? Right. Study group. Ha. 

She finished scribbling out christmas cards, arranging them in a neat stack, turning for the photo to send to Daenerys. It was in black and white, and extremely fuzzy, and she sat there squinting at it for half an hour. Specifically, squinting at the… bits. Daenerys wanted the gender to be a surprise, so Sansa didn’t want to know either. But seriously, how could doctors determine the baby’s gender from that fuzzy blob of an image? It didn’t look like anything to her. She shrugged to herself, stapled to the picture to Daenerys’s christmas card, and slid it into the envelope. 

The cards were tossed into her purse, and she got out of her chair when the doorbell buzzed loudly. That was funny. Maybe it was for Mya, her roommate. She threw her purse over her shoulder, opened the door, and found herself face to face with Myrcella Baratheon. Oh god. 

She nearly screamed and slammed the door in Myrcella’s sweet, pretty face, but she made herself smile.

“Hello, Sansa!” She chirped, thankfully keeping her eyes above Sansa’s waistline. She’d better button up her fluffy coat before Myrcella notices anything is off…  
The girl’s eyes immediately flickered down to her shaking fingers working at the buttons, and her eyes widened.

“Uhh….” she stared, and Sansa wanted to die.

“Please, Myrcella, you can’t-”

“It’s alright, I won’t!”

“No, really, you can’t! He can’t know about this!”

She looked confused and naive, but made a zipper motion across her mouth, “Trust me, my lips are sealed.” Sansa realized she was shivering, completely shaken by the appearance of this small, blonde, seventeen year old.

“But, you know,” Myrcella continued, “I’m sure if we told my mother, she would be happy to help you with anything-”

“No!” If Cersei found out, she would put on that cold, fake smile, and say that she would be happy to help Sansa. Knowing Cersei, it would probably end with her arranging that marriage between her and Joffrey, just to keep Margaery away for good. Cersei hated Margie, and Margie knew it. Sansa had a list of goals for her life, and near the top of the list was ‘Never lay eyes on Joffrey Baratheon ever again’. 

“Is Joff not the baby’s father?” Absolutely not, Sansa thought, the baby has a mother; Daenerys Targaryen, and that’s enough.

“He is,” she coughed out.

“And he never… he wouldn’t… not to you... ” Myrcella muttered, and Sansa knew she was remembering all the times Joffrey was cruel to her and Tommen. “Did he?” 

Sansa didn’t answer that.

“Well,” she forced a smile, “I’ll take it to my grave. I swear to The Seven.”

“The Seven,” Sansa echoed, hoping to hell that Myrcella wasn’t lying. 

“I was just… you know, in town this weekend and I figured I’d drop by and see how things are going… you know… because you go to college here and stuff…” she giggled nervously, rocking back and forth on her heels. 

“Yeah,” Sansa nodded, pulling another one of those awkward smiles.

“Clearly, you don’t want to talk to me right now, you’re just too polite to say it, so I think I’ll be going-”

“Oh! No, I’m- I’m over the scare, I was just taking the christmas cards to the mailbox, so I’m actually going out now if you wanted some coffee or anything-”

“You can’t have coffee,” Myrcella pointed out.

“Dammit.”

“We could go into that cute little sandwich shop I saw on the way here-”

“No way. My brother’s in there and he doesn’t know about… this…”

Her eyes widened, “Really? Exactly how quiet are you keeping this?”

“My roomie, my mom, and Margaery. That’s it”

“Margaery?”

“Yeah.” Myrcella blinked, and let out a huff of air as if that news was particularly shocking.

“You’ve been really good about hiding this, haven’t you?”

“Don’t tell Joffrey!”

“I won’t. Between you and me, he’s a little cunt.” Sansa let out a squeal of surprise, and Myrcella grinned, obviously proud of herself.

~*~*~

Sansa flopped backwards onto her bed, folding the pillow over her ears. The constant irritating noise that buzzed around the Stark household was comforting after her week of finals, but it only took a few minutes to remember that the noise actually was irritating.

“I want a hippopotamus for christmaaaaaaas…..” Rickon sang outside in the hallway, “Only a hippopotamus will dooooooo! No crocodiles! Or Rhinoceruses! I only like! HIPPOPOTAMUSES! AND HIPPOPOTAMUSES LIKE ME TOOOOOO!” He jumped down the stairs still singing and making as much noise as humanly possible, the sound of Shaggydog’s panting following him. 

What kind of a name was Shaggydog anyway? He wasn’t even a dog. And he wasn’t that shaggy. She only cared because she needed something- anything to keep her mind off what her hot headed, physically powerful, and potentially murderous siblings were going to do when they heard- or saw the news. Something scratched at her door, and Sansa jumped, shaken back to reality. A wolfish whine followed, and she groaned.

“Aw, Nymeria! I just sat down!” The whining continued.

“Aaaaaaand you don’t speak human. I forgot.” With great difficulty, she shoved herself up from the bed, and opened the door for a very excited Nymeria, who bounded into the room, yipping excitedly. The fact that she was a fully grown direwolf, and not a tiny puppy made the image so much funnier. 

“Yes, yes, Arya’s coming. I know.” She addressed the wolf, who began wagging her tail violently at the mention of Arya’s name.

“She’s going to go on a murdering spree when she sees what Joffrey did to me,” Sansa noted, and Nymeria began rolling on her back and wiggling her paws, knocking over Sansa’s empty suitcase amongst other things. 

Her phone beeped, and Sansa picked it up, opening the text from Jon, who’d picked up Arya from the ferry at White Harbor on his way down from The Wall.

'traffic jam on the highway. will be 20 mins later than expected.'

“Arya’s going to be a tad bit late,” Sansa told Nymeria, who whined softly as if she understood the words. The phone beeped again,

'I HIJACKED JONS PHONE HAHAHAHAHA DUMB SHITCAKE.'

Sansa laughed aloud, typing out a reply. 'Arya, give it back.'

The new message popped up, 'Dis aint Arya, sunshine. Shes asleep. So cute. Almost as cute as ur brother when I beat him at everythin yeeeeeee'

Wait. Does Jon have a girlfriend? 'Are you his girlfriend?'

'Yea. He doesn’t know where 2 put it haha'

Sansa wrinkled her nose. 'I did not need to know that.'

'Where do u guise even live goddamn ive been in this car for fuckin days i have to pee'

Sansa bit her lip, caught between scoffing in disgust, and giggling. 'Can you give Jon his phone back?'

'Hell fucking no.'

Sansa decided to laugh, and awkwardly bent over to ruffle Nymeria’s fur as the next messages popped up one after another.

'Wats ur fav slang word 4 vagina'  
'Mines TWAT.'  
'Merry xmas btw, i didnt get u anythin LOL'  
'OMG I’m so sorry! Ygritte took my phone. Ignore those last texts oh god sorry.'

Sansa laughed to herself. Her mother was going to have a great time meeting Jon’s girlfriend, that was guaranteed. She sent back a reply: 'Please take care of your gf apparently she’s been in your car for days and has to pee.'

'Yeah I know she hasn’t shut up about that but we’re in the middle of a highway now so she can get out and pee in the snow if she wants'

Speaking of pee… she got up and made her way to the bathroom, closing the door when Nymeria attempted to follow. 'You shouldn’t text and drive, Jon.'

'well im not driving. we’re stuck in this fucking traffic jam and no one’s fucking moving'

Sansa smirked, and stepped out of the bathroom, lifting her head at the scent of blackberry scones. 'Mmmmm…. mom’s making scones and it smells so gooooood too bad you’re not here yet. Hahahahaha'

The phone beeped: 'You’d better not eat them all or else'

She slowly descended the stairs while typing her answer: 'That depends. Did you get me anything?'

'Yeah, I’m not THAT broke'

'LOL ok. Imma stop texting u kuz scones arent gonna eat themselves byeeee'

Sansa padded into the kitchen, where her mother was removing a tray of steaming blackberry pastries from the oven. She was about to get her mother’s attention when Rickon slid across the wood floor in his socks, yelling something unintelligible, and almost knocking Sansa over. Bran, Shaggydog, and Summer were right behind him, and her mother turned to find the five of them standing there staring at her with very hopeful looks on their faces, including the wolves.

“No no no!” she waved a dish towel at them, “These are for dessert tonight, if you want something now, there’s a basket of granola bars on the table.” 

Bran groaned a complaint about how there was a massive volcano beyond The Wall that could explode and kill them all, so really they should be eating as much sugar as they could while they were alive.

“If anyone so much as touches these,” she took one from the baking sheet and set it on a dish, “Your dinner will consist entirely of brussel sprouts. Clear?” She set a glob of butter on the plate, and handed it to Sansa. Bran make a choked noise of disbelief, and Rickon’s jaw dropped.

“Mom!” They whined at the same time, and Sansa grinned and started eating.

“Your sister’s pregnant, and she’ll eat whatever she likes.”

“Yeah, guys,” Sansa taunted, “Your sister’s pregnant, and she’ll eat whatever she likes.” Rickon rolled his eyes and made a face at her, turning to wheel Bran’s chair back out of the kitchen. Her mom leaned against the kitchen counter, and looked at her with a fond smile.

“You know, I actually really like Daenerys.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She likes kids, she’s a successful single woman, financially secure, not a religious fanatic, respectful of others, frequently faces down The Lannisters in court, getting them to raise minimum wages and give the lower class better treatment.”

“I did not know that.”

“It’s unlikely that Cersei and Joffrey will ever want to look at the child she’s raising, much less be within two hundred feet of her.” Sansa felt her face grow into a smile,

“Did she say anything about ideas for names? You know, because the Targaryen family all have pretty… ah… unique names, you know.”

“No, she never said anything. Maybe she wants you to choose the name.”

“Nuh uh” Sansa shook her head, and jabbed a finger at her belly, “Not my baby. This is not my baby.” Her mom tightened her mouth for a moment before shrugging.

“Alright, dear.” The doorbell rang, and a large, furry, grey blur shot down the stairs like a bullet, and began howling at the door. The two of them locked eyes, in equal panic.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't been active lately! But here it is, chapter five. Merry February Christmas, nerds. =)

“Get on the couch!” her mom hissed, going for the door, “Put a blanket over yourself!”

Sansa hurried over to the living room, but didn’t get a blanket, instead doing her best to curl her knees up against her swollen stomach. Across the house, a door opened, wind howled, a wolf yelped, and Arya’s high pitched laugh answered, muffled by fur.

“I missed you too, girl!” Nymeria’s happy panting proved she agreed with that very much, and Sansa realized it had been over a year since she’d heard her sister’s voice in person. She gulped back eager tears, pressing a hand to her lips to keep it all in. Ugh. Fucking hormones. After awkwardly dabbing her eyes on her sleeve, she looked up to see a white, furry nose peeking over the arm of the couch, sniffing at her quietly.

“Hello, Ghostie,” She ruffled his fur, listening to Jon, Arya, and her mother’s voices echoing from the door mixed with a loud northern accent which could only be Jon’s new girlfriend. Ghost slinked over in front of her, nudging at her folded knees until she put her legs down, allowing him to sniff at the baby. Sansa let out a breath and scratched him behind the ears. A soft hum reached her ears, and she realized that Ghost was making noise. A quiet purr, but definitely noise, at her baby. Damn. Ghost never made noise. Not until now.

“See that, Ghostie? That’s Dany’s baby.”

“Who the fuck,” Arya said from behind her, “Is Dany?” Sansa whirled around, instinctively curling her hands over her belly, “And why,” she snarled, “Are you carrying his little gremlin thing?”

“Arya,” Sansa started, “Dany’s a woman. She-”

“You’re gay?”

“No! She’s adopting it when its born, you have to let me tell the whole-”

“So it’s Joffrey’s?!” Her sister was tiny, but right now, she was making Sansa fear for her life. She’d thought she was prepared for Arya’s wrath. She was wrong. So terribly wrong.

Jon and his red headed girlfriend stepped into the living room, “What’s Joffrey’s?” Sansa wanted to cry in frustration, and Arya hauled her to her feet, pointing at her stomach,

“THAT. THAT’S JOFFREY’S” Arya positively seethed with silent rage, and Jon’s mouth dropped open. His girlfriend laughed, and slapped him on the back,

“Well, sur-fucking-prise, you tosspot. Your sister’s pregnant.” Her half-brother took exactly one second to switch from a shocked little puppy to a snarling beast.

“Joffrey’s head,” he snapped, “My chainsaw.” 

Arya scoffed with approval, “As long as I can flay his dick and smash his balls to pulp first,” she vowed, cracking her knuckles.

“Who the hell is this Joffrey lad?” Jon’s girlfriend asked, “I'ma shoot ‘im.” 

“My god, Sansa,” Arya spat, “How can you be so. Fucking. Stupid?” Sansa found herself stumbling backwards, shaking her head at the floor before she lost it, melting to the floor as she burst into tears. Her mother had apparently entered the room, and was telling off Jon and Arya, and it was far too loud, too much shouting and swearing and pointing.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, “I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry, I fucked up, okay?” but Arya wouldn’t listen, and had to be restrained by her mother and Jon’s girlfriend as she hollered curses an obscenities to Joffrey and his family. She squeezed her hands over her ears, and huddled in a ball on the floor like some sort of cornered animal. She should’ve just stayed at her dorm for Christmas. 

Arya was going off like a bomb, and Jon wasn’t much better, and the whole thing scared the hell out of her. You know what? Enough was enough, dammit, and if Arya wanted to behave like a fucking wild animal, she could do it outside.

“ARYA!” she screamed, immediately silencing the room, “How old are you, seventeen? Seventeen, not five, so when it’s extremely clear that I fucked my own life in the ass, you can feel free to calm the hell down, or so help me. You don’t think I also want to shove a cactus down Joffrey’s throat? Because I really, really do, but I’ve decided to be mature about this, and just cut his entire family out of my life permanently. Alright?” 

Arya’s mouth shut only for five seconds, “Well then next time you’re soaking your panties for some slimy little jackass-”

“Shut it.” Sansa cut her off.

“How about you just-”

“No, Arya. Be quiet!” Her sister’s eyes smouldered like hot coals, the same expression as when they got in fights when they were children. Just like when they were children. A bold giddy smile was creeping its way up Arya’s lips, and at the same time, the two of them burst out laughing. 

“Come here, you old prissy fuckface,” Arya giggled, holding her arms out. Sansa happily obliged, cuddling her little sister like there was no tomorrow.

“Merry Christmas, you smelly butthead,” she replied, still hugging Arya, taking note of Jon’s stunned expression.

“Snotty cry-baby.”

“Turd-nugget.”

“Sparkling trash.”

“Sparkling trash?”

“Hell yeah,” Arya laughed.

“Is that my nickname now? Sparkling trash?”

“Did you get me a present?”

“I won’t be able to give you your present if you insist on hugging me for eternity.” Arya only grumbled in defiance and squeezed her arms harder, and then the baby decided to give her a sharp kick. Arya squealed, and leapt back. “IT FUCKING TOUCHED ME!” Jon’s girlfriend cackled with amusement.

“IT’S ALIVE!” Arya gasped.

Sansa rolled her eyes, “Well yeah, what did you think was in there, a teddy bear?”

Arya shrugged, “Actually, yeah. Kind of. But that ain’t a teddy bear, that’s a damn gremlin.” Jon’s girlfriend snorted.

“I’m sorry,” Sansa said, “What’s your name?”

“Name’s Ygritte.” she held out a hand, “I go to school on the other side of The Wall. Met this one here-” she bumped Jon with her shoulder, “When we were on a multi-school camping trip. The two of us got lost for days, and we had to sleep together for warmth, and when I woke up, he was all-”

“Ygritte.” 

Arya smirked, and patted a mortified Jon on the back.

“So anyway, then my whole friend group go to know him, we started inviting Jon out with us, the goal was to get that stick out of his ass-”

“Ygritte.”

“Sadly, he never did get that stick out of his ass,” she stuck her bottom lip out, and made bambi-eyes at Jon, who exhaled loudly. “But I did discover that if you get him mildly drunk, drag him into a cave, and strip all your clothes off-”

“YGRITTE.”

“-your twat’s gonna get eaten like a fucking cake.” Sansa make a choking noise, and Jon slapped one hand over Ygritte’s mouth, and looked as if he wanted to die. Arya fell against the wall, laughing so hard, she was merely gagging silently and clapping like a seal. She took a deep breath, looked at Jon’s expression, and began cackling again.

“HOLY FUCK,” she gasped, “I’M GONNA PEE.”

Ygritte pried Jon’s hand off her mouth, “Or as I once heard someone say- the tongue tango with one tongue.” She turned to Jon with an exaggerated wink.

“NO.” Jon begged,

“YES.” Arya nodded, and Sansa put her hands up in surrender, and went back to the couch to pet Ghost some more. She melted into the cushions, smiling to the sound of Rickon wheeling Bran’s chair down the hall at the speed of light to greet his siblings. 

The two of them burst into the living room, and Rickon wheeled the chair right over Arya’s foot. She yelped in pain, and swatted Rickon over the head, who laughed in return, and shoved a bright red santa hat over her hair. Sansa giggled softly and leaned back, closing her eyes.

~*~*~

“Study group, huh?” a familiar voice asked, and Sansa rubbed her eyes.

“Mmmm…. what?” She blinked the warm haze out of her head, and found Robb sitting on the couch next to her with a smirk on his face. “Robb!” she gasped, and sat up.

“Hug?” he asked, holding his arms out, and Sansa gulped. There was a rage storm in there somewhere, she knew it.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna try to kill the little thing. Mom told me. You were asleep when I arrived.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, humming happily.

“I’m really sorry-” she started.

“It’s not your fault, Sans,” he assured her, rubbing her back. “Although,” he added, “If I ever happen to see Shitbird Baratheon in public ever again, I will not hesitate to shove a blowtorch so far up his ass, it’ll get lodged in his skull, his throat will be cooked, and his eyeballs will ooze down his face.”

Sansa wrinkled her nose, “Are you taking a creative writing class?”

“Yep!” he squeezed her tighter, “Merry Christmas, Sansa,”

“Merry Christmas, Robb.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JESUS ROLLERBLADING CHRIST. TWO CHAPTER UPDATES IN ONE WEEK? GODDAMN. *pats myself on the back*. You're welcome. 
> 
> Also, I recently started working on a Modern AU of Romeo and Juliet in which I turned Romeo into a girl named Remy, because lesbians make everything better, amarite? You can read the first two chapters on my page =)

Sansa studied the hot mess that was the living room on Christmas morning. Clumps of brightly colored paper, tape, name tags, and bows were scattered absolutely everywhere.

A stack of sparkling pink presents sat under the tree, and Sansa pushed through the sea of paper to reach it. Pink had always been her favorite color, and without fail, every year, her presents were always glittering pink. She sat down next to Arya, who was busily shredding away the paper on a little package, squealing with delight when she saw the long, intricate knife underneath. 

“WHATDAYA THINK?” Jon yelled from across the room, and Arya grinned so wide, Sansa feared her face might split.

“OH HELL YES, YOU AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFUL ASS CLOWN!” she yelled back.

“First lesson with a dagger,” Jon said, “Stick ‘em with the pointy end.”

Arya rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless, “I know which end to use.”

“Sansa, look at it!” she waved the knife in Sansa’s face, causing her to lean back, “I wonder how sharp it is,” she muttered, and before Sansa could stop her, she dragged the blade across the back of her hand, letting out trickles of blood.

Arya shrugged, and nodded, not at all fazed by the pain, “Huh, not bad.” 

 

Among Sansa’s presents, she had received a box of assorted nail polish from Arya, the same thing she got her every year. New parts for her broken sewing machine from Robb, a massive plush panda from Bran, a cute little dream catcher from Rickon, a snow globe from Jon, and a half empty packet of chips from Ygritte, which didn’t matter since Ygritte snatched them back five minutes later and finished them. Her mother had bought her a pair of expensive navy heels, warning her that she’d better not even think about wearing them until that baby was out. 

Margaery sent over a snowflake charm bracelet, along with a collection of pictures of Joffrey crying and squealing like an infant after falling off his skateboard and trying to be cool. Arya had snatched the photos, arranged them in a circle on the floor, cackling. Robb threw a handful of glitter over the stack of pictures, and Arya began worshipping them, declaring that she had at last found Jesus. 

Bran then took Arya’s new knife and slashed it through Joffrey’s face, flinching when Arya began to shout at him for “ruining the priceless art”. In the end, the pictures were hot-glued to the fridge; the highest place of honor. Mother didn’t notice, or she at least pretended she didn’t. 

Daenerys sent her a fluffy green sweater, and a note thanking her for the x-ray of the baby. 

The rest of the day consisted of Arya, Jon Ygritte and Robb having the most aggressive snowball fight history had ever seen, Bran eating his weight in cookies, Rickon strapping antlers to all the direwolves, and Sansa having to clean up the living room mess, as per fucking usual. 

Bran’s weird friends Jojen and Meera came over for dinner, and so did Rickon’s first girlfriend, Shireen. Even though there were only eleven of them, the tables arranged end to end with people lining either side made Sansa feel like she was a guest at some feast in the middle ages. Although, half of those usually ended in massacre and bloody messes, so thank god. Sansa found herself between Arya and Robb, with Ygritte sitting across the table. 

“Hey, I bet I can fit this whole thing in my mouth,” Arya said, holding up a massive piece of buttered potato.

“Aw, Arya,” Sansa pleaded

“C’mon, let’s see it!” Robb encouraged. Arya jammed the whole thing in with great difficulty due to her constant laughter. 

“Say chubby bunny,” Ygritte said.

“Shubby Bubby,” Arya mumbled, and spat the gooey mess back onto her plate. Sansa cringed as Robb began clapping.

“I bet I can drink this whole thing and shoot it out of my nose,” Ygritte boasted, lifting her champagne glass. 

Arya leaned forward, “Really?”

“Oh yeah. Jon can confirm. JON!”

“Hm?” Jon lifted his head from where he’d been feeding Ghost under the table.

“I can drink things and shoot it back out of my nose, true or false?”

“True.”

It suddenly occurred to Sansa that she was sitting right across the table from Ygritte, who was gulping down her champagne. Ygritte made a face for a few seconds before the fizzy liquid squirted back out of her nose, and onto her napkin. Arya cheered in approval while Sansa winced. 

“SHIT. It burns!”

Jon shook his head, “That is fucking disgusting,” he said, as he high fived his beaming girlfriend. 

Further down the table, Shireen was chattering away to Catelyn, finally coming out of her shell. Rickon was teaching Shaggydog to balance grapes on his nose. On the other end, Jojen and Bran were swatting at each other with forks while Meera giggled. 

 

With loads of stress, their mother managed to gather everyone in the living room for cookies and a movie, which wound up being “How The Grinch Stole Christmas.” Ygritte loudly reminded everyone how Cindy-Lou-Who had grown up to become the lead singer of The Pretty Reckless, and insisted on showing everyone a picture. 

Sometime during the movie, Arya had wriggled in beside her, and set one hand on her belly.

“Is she gonna move?”

“Maybe. And I don’t know the gender yet, don’t say ‘she’.”

“It’s a girl. I know it.” The baby squirmed.

“See? She agrees.” Arya had a smug look on her face.

“You think?”

“Yeah.” Arya recieved a kick right below her hand, and she giggled softly. By the time the movie ended, Rickon and Shireen were sprawled out together on the carpet before the fireplace, already half asleep. The sight made Sansa’s heart ache. 

~*~*~*~

The Stark family and company celebrated the New Year outside in the freezing cold, hopping around to keep warm, waving sparklers and yelling. This year, it was Sansa’s turn to do the honors of lighting the fireworks, sending rainbow lights showering down on them all along with the snow. 

Arya began referring to Daenerys’s baby with female pronouns, betting two hundred dollars on it being a girl. Jon decided to oppose her on that. Sansa let her little sister launch the last firework, standing by and smiling as Arya whooped and danced in the lights. 

She fell into bed, enjoying the slight tingles in her skin that always happened when you came back into a warm house after hours in the cold. She rolled onto her side and sucked the taste of hot chocolate and candy from her fingers. Damn. The new year had started one hour ago. 

She hadn’t showered since last year. She hadn’t changed her clothes since last year. Laughing to herself, she whispered, “Hey, I’m pregnant, and I haven’t peed since LAST YEAR-” she cut off with a frown, glaring at the ceiling. 

She groaned loudly and folded her pillow around her ears, trying to cut out the noises of Jon and Ygritte noisily celebrating the new year together upstairs. Ugh. Honestly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like the references I threw in there? Heheheheeheh i'm so funny.


	7. this is another update sorry LMAO

I realize I haven't updated this since February, and I'm sooooooo sorry. The deal is, I wrote the last chapter before I wrote everything that should come between the Christmas scene and the end, so I'm getting my shit together, I promise. Anyway, since finals are over, I have all day to write and so you can expect the rest of this to be up in its entirety sometime in the next 2 weeks. 

THANK YOOUUUU!

(Also, to the people who gave their input for the baby's gender, I'm mashing up your requests for the ending. You'll know what I mean when you read it :p )


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AYYYYYYYYYY first legit update in months (sorry its so short, I PROMISE I'll post the next chapter tomorrow and yes, I have finished this thing.)

It was late January. The sun was shining through a thin layer of clouds, washing the whole town in pale grey light. A sprinkling of snow had begun to fall. Not the christmassy kind that got everyone excited, this was the kind that made everyone groan and beg the gods for spring. 

“Fuck off, Sansa,” Arya slurred from the corner of the couch, face half buried in cushions, “We are not watching Vampire Diaries. That show is the worst thing ever.”

“You’ve never even seen the first episode,” Sansa protested, “Bear with me on this one!”

“I can already tell. It’s got a stupid name.”

“Well, yeah, it has a really dumb name, but I promise it’s better than that. Don’t judge a show by its name.”

“That’s why shows have names,” Arya mumbled, “So you can judge them.”

Sansa groaned. Arguing with Arya only ever ended her way. “So we’re just gonna continue Orange is The New Black?”

“You know it.” 

Sansa sighed and reluctantly clicked the play button on netflix, and made her way to the microwave to make popcorn while the theme song played. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t have anything against her sister’s favorite show, it was just that it didn’t have any of the sappy, mildly supernatural romance tied up in red lipstick that Sansa had always been a sucker for. 

Besides, it was Sansa’s apartment that Arya was visiting, shouldn’t Sansa get to decide what to watch? But then again, Arya was the guest. Ugh, whatever. The microwave beeped, the popcorn was separated into two bags, and Sansa turned around to face the TV.

“Arya! You’re not even watching it!” her sister was snoring heavily.

“Don’t you dare change it,” Arya muttered, “I know what you’re thinking.” 

“UGH, fine.” It’s a pretty decent show, Sansa admits. It would be better if Arya would stop snoring louder than the shitty speakers. It gives her a headache. And a backache too, apparently. Ow. 

Sansa leaned forward with difficulty, hissing and rubbing her sore muscles. If she didn’t have killer back muscles at the end of this whole thing, she was going to set something on fire. Strangely, the annoying pain was over almost as quickly as it had come, so Sansa resumed watching TV and tossing popcorn into Arya’s hair.

 

~*~*~*~  
She hummed to herself in the shower, enjoying the sensation of hot water flowing through her hair. She almost forgot all about her backache when it returned sharply, making her hiss in pain. Goddammit. There was a heat pad in a cabinet in the kitchen if she remembered correctly. Jeyne often used it after tennis matches, but surely she wouldn’t mind. 

Sansa switched off the water, and pulled the towel off the shower curtain rod, and began drying herself off. That’s funny. Why was the water still running down her thighs- Sansa sighed loudly. She hadn’t peed herself since she was five, but another suspicion shoved its way into her head. OH SHIT.

“Arya?” she called, hugging the towel around herself. Answer came in the form of an annoyed grunt from her sister. The water ran down her legs, and began pooling in the bathtub. Oh god.

“Arya, do me a solid and bring me my phone,” she shouted, in what she hoped was a steady voice. Her heart was beginning, to race, and she seriously feared she might puke.

“No phones in the shower, Sansa,” she called.

“ARYA KATHERINE STARK!” she screamed at the top of her voice, “YOU BRING ME MY FUCKING PHONE, OR SO HELP ME YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because fuck you that's why. Cliffhangers are fun, mkay?


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IDK why Arya's middle name is Katherine. I just decided that. Maybe I should've made it something ridiculous and embarassing like Franny. LOL. But anyway, here's the next bit.
> 
> Final chapter will be posted tomorrow, and I wrote an epilogue for this thing because why the fuck not.

“ARYA KATHERINE STARK!” she screamed at the top of her voice, “YOU BRING ME MY FUCKING PHONE, OR SO HELP ME YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Ayra yelled back, and Sansa heard her walking across the living room outside, “I’m getting it!” What was undeniably her labor fluids were rushing out of her, and Sansa sobbed, half from the sudden pain, half from panic for Daenerys’s baby. 

“AYRA!” she shouted, “NOW!” The noise of objects being shuffled around and her sister swearing creatively under her breath could be heard outside the door.

“IT’S IN MY PURSE, DUMBASS,” A moment later, Arya slipped through the doorway with the phone in her hand.

Sansa’s hand shook as she scrolled through the contacts page. Should she call her mom? Margie? Daenerys? She decided on her mother, rubbing her hand back and forth over her stomach, sitting down in the bathtub while the phone dialed.

“You doing OK, Sansa?” Arya asked quietly. Arya wasn’t an idiot. She knew what was happening.

“No.”

“Well, hang in there.”

Sansa glared at her, and immediately began to cry when her mother’s voice greeted her. “Mama, this wasn’t supposed to happen for another two months,” she gasped into the phone, “I don’t know what to do, the little guy- prob’ly won’t make it- Daenerys- she- her baby-”

“Shhhhh, Sansa, how long have you been in labor? Has your water broken?”

“Yes, and for about an hour and a half.”

“Alright. You have about another three hours before you have to head to the hospital. In the meantime, walk around and stay on your feet. Is there anyone in the apartment with you?”

“Arya’s right here.” Arya turned her head at the sound of her name, and raised an eyebrow.

“OK. There has to be someone with you at all times, got it? Time the contractions and everything.”

“Baby’s going to- to- die or something- I failed Dany-”

“You’re about 29 weeks, yes?”

“Yeah.” The baby kicked her, and though it hurt like hell, she smiled at the sign of life.

“He’ll be- or she- will be small, but will most likely make it. Remember when Bran was born?”

“Mm-hm.”

“I was only 31 weeks when I had him, and he’s just fine now, right?”

“Bran’s in a wheelchair, mama.”

“But that had absolutely nothing to do with how early he was born.”

“Right. OK. I’m still scared out of my mind.”

“Go give Daenerys a call. Ask if she wants to be at the hospital when the baby comes out.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” She hung up, and immediately called Daenerys, doing those breathing exercises she learned years ago at some girl scout yoga class. 

“Hello, Sansa darling,” Daenerys’s valyrian accent greeted her, “What’s up?”

“Just went into labor.”

“What?”

“Baby’s coming.” Daenerys’s gasp of excitement could be heard through the phone. “But yeah, I’m sitting in the bathtub and my sister is silently flipping out,”

“Am not,” Arya interrupted,

“Are too,” Sansa shot back, and got back on the phone, “I just called my mom, she said to call you because since it’s your child and all, you’d most likely be interested in the fact that I’m having it two months early and I don’t know what to do and I’m silently being pulled to hell here and I can’t calm down and OW SHIT that hurt, excuse my french, why do we even use that phrase, it isn’t even french for fucks sake- dammit, there I go again, I’m really sorry Daenerys-”

“You know what, Sansa?” she heard the sounds of a door being opened and Dany running down the stairs, “If you think you can, you should come have the baby at Dragonstone Medical Center. It might be a bit of a drive, but I can meet you there.”

“I can do that,” she nodded, still rubbing her hand over her belly, “Yeah, I can do that.” she held the phone away from her mouth and looked at Arya,

“Arya, you’re driving me to Dragonstone.”

“Wha- I- but- I had plans!”

“You’re doing it.”

“Alright, I have a ride. How long does it usually take to get there?”

“Since it’s 9pm right now, I’d say it’s about a three hour drive. How long have the contractions been going so far?”

“Hour and a half. My mom said I had three hours before I needed to be in the hospital, so I’ll be leaving my apartment now.”

“Think you’ll be OK?”

Sansa laughed, “No.”

“I’ll stay on here the whole time, OK? Now the first thing you’re going to have to do is pack yourself a hospital bag.” She stood up and climbed out, raiding Mya’s side of the cabinet for a maxi pad. Something she hadn’t used in forever. 

“Hang on a moment, I’m getting dressed…” 

“Wear sweatpants.”

“Yeah.” She awkwardly balanced the phone between her ear and her shoulder while wiggling into her clothes. How was it that there wasn’t a single backpack in her whole room? She pushed through the closet, mumbling under her breath, finally finding a ratty old one.

“Bring a tennis ball.”

“Really?”

“Half the pain comes from the baby shoving your hip bones apart, and the other half is from the most intense muscle spasms you could possibly imagine.” Sansa shrugged, and tossed Arya’s stray tennis ball into the bag.

“Don’t bother bringing toothbrushes or shampoo or anything, but you’re going to want a squeezable and possibly biteable soft object. Bring earbuds. Listen to music. You’ll need snacks too for afterwards. Hospital food is disgusting. And flip flops.” All of it was aimlessly tossed into the backpack. 

“I heard somewhere that childbirth was the second most painful thing a human being could experience and being burned alive was the top of the list.”

“Accurate.”

Sansa swallowed, “Was it… like… that bad?”

“I passed out two hours in, and when I woke up they told me my little Rhaego was dead.”

She rubbed her palms into her eyes, “What if… what if I fail you? What if this baby dies too?”

“Don’t think of it like that, Sansa,” Daenerys said softly, “You’ll be just fine. You’re already doing better than I was. You know, I went into labor at 23 weeks. My husband had just been shot, all the stress wasn’t good for little Rhaego. The doctors told me that I would benefit greatly from an epidural shot, but I was too stubborn. I wanted to do it properly, that’s what I thought. But you, Sansa darling, you’re one level headed smart girl, and you’ll be just fine. I know it.” 

She exhaled slowly, “Yeah. OK. Should I eat anything before or…?”

“If you want to eat, then eat. The doctors will tell you when you can’t.” Sansa awkwardly staggered down the stairs, and began making herself a sandwich. Oh yeah. Everyday college girl situations. Eating spoonfuls of nutella straight out of the jar while ignoring stabbing pain in your guts because you happen to be having a baby. 

“The most important thing is to stay calm for as long as you can.”

Sansa swallowed the food, “I’ll try.”

“Oh, I’ll need to go shopping tomorrow,” Daenerys declared.

“Hm?”

“Yeah. I have all the furniture and the room is painted, but I don’t have toys or diapers.”

“Ah. Oww…” Another shock of pain went through her, and she stumbled up against the table. It lasted longer this time, and the fact that it would only get increasingly worse intimidated the living hell out of her.

“Still doing OK?”

“Hmm. Ugh. Yeah. You know what? I’ll shoot you a text when I get in the car.”

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

“Bye!” She set her phone on the table, and repressed the urge to slump into the chair. She had to stay up and moving around.

“You look pathetic.” Arya stood in the kitchen entrance, eating popcorn out of a bag. 

Sansa rolled her eyes, “Does it look like I care?”

~*~*~

The squeezable plushie had been a good idea. She came down from the wave of pain panting and clutching the stuffed panda Bran had given her.

“Motherfucking Christ!” she gasped, as Arya patted her shoulder from the drivers seat. Her sister was taking this surprisingly lightly. Sansa on the other hand felt like she could throw up at any moment. Her sister was somehow still munching away at that same bag of popcorn, and it had been two and a half hours.

Sansa’s guts were in her throat, and she was covered in cold sticky sweat like a teenage boy. Ugh. She could feel the next contraction coming on, and braced her arms around the panda, taking a deep breath. With a loud, extremely unattractive groan of pain, she slammed her eyes shut, and strangled the life out of the panda.

The baby chose the wrong moment to squirm, sending jolts racing up her spine. Sansa hissed and swore under her breath.

“C’mon, Sansa, take it like a woman,” Arya said, and Sansa could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Shut up,” she croaked in reply. She collapsed against the window, breathing and shuddering like she’d just run a marathon.

“We there yet?”

Arya glanced at the GPS app on the phone, “25 more minutes.” Sansa let out a babyish whine at that answer. They were only approaching the bridge to Dragonstone just now, and the line for the toll gates made Sansa want to rip her hair out.

“Of all the nights for there to be a carnival on Dragonstone, IT HAD TO BE TONIGHT.” She complained, staring daggers into the line of cars ahead of them.

“Patience, Sansa,” Arya said, trying to imitate their mother.

“Well, you know what, Arya? My whole body hurts like a bitch, and I have fucking splash mountain coming out of my vag, so you can shut it.” Arya had the nerve to smirk.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me, or I will burn you alive and wear your ashes as eyeshadow.” 

“Damn, I have taught you well in the insult department.”

“Don’t take credit for my talents.”

Acting casual and paying the toll booth guy while Sansa wailed quietly into her stuffed panda in the passenger seat definitely earned its place in the "Top 5 most awkward things Arya Stark has done" list.

~*~*~*~

“Want it now! Why can’t I have it now, goddammit?” Sansa whined after a particularly crippling bout of pain.

“Ten more minutes, Sansa, you can do it. Then you can have the medicine,” Arya assured her in a soothing voice that was extremely out of character.

“NO! Not ten minutes!” Sansa cried as the next contraction started, “I want it now! Now!” She felt like a bratty child, but she was well beyond caring. 

“I know darling, I know,” Daenerys said from behind her as she rolled the tennis ball into the knotted muscles. Sansa gasped, and leaned over the end of the bed, clutching the railing. She nearly sobbed in sweet relief when the needle was stuck into her skin to inject the painkillers. 

The next hour was spent walking around the room, listening to music and tossing the tennis ball from hand to hand. Arya told cheesy puns, and Daenerys taught her a few words in Valyrian to keep her calm. It worked until the pain riled up again. Sansa knew that without the medicine, it would be so much worse, or so she told herself in an attempt to downplay her agony. 

The smiley nurse came in with her clipboard, and told Sansa to lie back on the bed so she could measure her progress.

“Five centimeters,” the nurse announced happily, and Sansa gaped at her.

“What? Only five?”

“Yes ma’am,” the nurse chirped, and Sansa could’ve punched her, if she had the strength, which she didn't.

“And I need ten, right?”

“That is correct, ma’am.”

“But it’s been like, six hours!” Sansa whined.

“Actually, it’s been seven,” the nurse corrected, and Sansa shrieked at her like a demon,

“Yeah, I DON’T GIVE ONE SINGLE SUGAR GLAZED FUCK! I JUST WANT IT OUT!” she broke down in babyish sobs, squirming against the bed through the pain.  
“I’m sorry,” she apologised to the smiley nurse, “I’m just- ugh. This is one hell of a day-AY-AHHH!” 

“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” the nurse replied with a sympathetic smile, “Hang in there, I’ll go get the doctor.” Sansa began braiding her hair into knot on top of her head, huffing in frustration when her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She was flopped over on a hospital bed with her legs wide open and a cartoon panda draped over her chest, she could only imagine what she looked like.

Arya seemed to read her mind, “No offense, but your vagina looks like a nasty-ass knife wound right now.”

“Thank you, Arya, for your supportive attitude, and motivational comments.”

~*~*~*~

Daenerys petted Sansa’s hair as she buried her face in the panda, screaming bloody murder. The nurse was holding her legs in place as spasms wracked her whole body. She had broken down already, crying and blubbering and begging for her mother. It felt like every corner of her exhausted self was slowly and painfully hardening into stone, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. Exactly how her mother had done this five times was completely beyond her. 

“FUCKING FUCK,” she gasped as her insides imploded on themselves yet again, “GET IT OUT,” she wailed at no one in particular, “GET IT OUT, GET IT OUT!”

“Ten centimeters,” the doctor announced, and he fucking grinned at her.

“Alright,” the nurse said, “What you’re gonna do is on the next one, push as hard as you can, and we can start getting the little guy out, OK?” Sansa nodded weakly. She was so done. So very fucking done. The next wave of agony rose, and she shoved down on her muscles, screeching loudly.

“That’s it, that’s it, take a break,” the doctor said, and Sansa whimpered. 

“You’re doing great, Sansa,” Daenerys assured her, petting her hair. Fifteen contractions later, Arya gasped.

“I can see her head!”

“Oh, thank god,” Sansa breathed, and shoved down with all her strength. It felt like a ring of fire. Pure hell. The nurse pulled the chubby pink lump from her body, and she crumpled into the sheets.

As she passed out, she noticed how odd it was that the baby wasn’t crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awh, FUCK ME.


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, guys! (Woo hoo! I accomplished a thing!)

Arya was doing that thing she had always done since the beginning of time- sleeping with her eyes open. It was creepy, and weird, and never failed to make Sansa shiver. God, hospital beds were weird. Wait, what? The memories of the past twenty four hours came shooting back, and Sansa sat up.

“Arya!”

“Mph. What.”

“Where’s Daenerys? What happened?”

Arya rubbed her eyes, “Well, the baby came out with the cord thingy around her neck-”

“Oh god.”

“She started crying as soon as they got it off, and then her skin started turning yellow-”

Her strength gave out, and she fell back against the pillows. Arya continued, and Sansa listened intently.

“They said it was some disfunction with her liver, and so now she’s sleeping under this weird sun-lamp contraption, she’s got breathing tubes and all that shit.”

“Is she going to die?”

Arya laughed, “Everyone dies, Sansa.”

“You know what I meant.”

“She’ll be fine. Also, Jon owes me two hundred bucks now. What did I tell you?”

“Can I-”

“See her? I dunno, but Dany hasn’t left the nursery window for hours.”

“I want to. Is the nurse here?”

“Naw, she left thirty minutes ago after giving you the biggest maxi pad ever created by humankind.” She immediately threw the blankets back, groaning when she found that Arya hadn’t been lying.

“Apparently, you’re having the most intense period ever right now.” 

“Well, I can’t feel anything below here,” Sansa replied, gesturing to her waistline.

~*~*~

The nurse pushed her along in a wheelchair, and they found Daenerys standing next to the window, watching her baby girl. Her expression was hard to read, a mixture of concern, pride, protectiveness, and love.

She turned her head, smiling as bright as a star when she caught sight of Sansa. She joined Daenerys at the window, looking at the little thing that had spent seven months squirming in Sansa’s belly. Two sun lamps glared over the baby, who slept peacefully in her basin, wearing nothing but a diaper and a lilac hat. Her little ribcage rose and fell, and Sansa had never heard anything as sweet at that heart monitor beeping rhythmically.

“She’s so cute!” Sansa blurted, and Daenerys nodded, still smiling. The baby looked like every other generic newborn- all soft skin, chubby body, and rosy cheeks, but neither of them could care less. She was gorgeous. 

“They took out the oxygen tube a while ago,” Daenerys noted, “They say she needs to grow, but she’ll be just fine.” Sansa couldn’t help but feel a tidal wave of relief crash over her in that moment. 

The baby was healthy, she had a mother- the perfect mother- and Joffrey never heard anything about it, not one single slip, and it was likely to stay that way. She looked back up, and noticed a nurse picking the baby out of her basin, and wrapping her in a fleece blanket. The nurse made her way to the door, and poked her head out.

“Miss Targaryen?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to feed your daughter?” The nurse held out a bottle, and Daenerys rushed over, taking her baby into her arms. The hallway was still and quiet except for a few shallow sniffles- and oh wow- Daenerys Targaryen was crying.

The baby opened her eyes and gurgled at her mother, who laughed through her tears. Daenerys fed her eager baby, looking so ridiculously happy that Sansa couldn’t stop the rush of her own tears either. The baby blinked up at her mother, and sucked a lock of platinum blonde hair into her mouth.

“Oh, no, no!” Daenerys laughed, taking her hair back. 

“Leah,” Daenerys said, lifting her eyes from the baby to where Sansa’s wheelchair was parked.

“What?”

“Leah’s a pretty name. A Stark family name, yes?”

“Yes it is.”

“Leah Targaryen. I like it.” 

That would be amusing, Sansa thought. The Targaryen family tree. There was Aegon, Visenya, Rhaenys, Rhaelle, Daeron, Lucerys, Aemon, Rhaenyra, Daenerys, and- Leah. Alright. That could certainly work. 

Where all the rest had silver hair and purple eyes, Leah didn’t have any hair yet, and her eyes were green. Lannister green, Sansa noted. She really couldn’t care less. She’d given Daenerys a healthy daughter, and that’s what was important. 

~*~*~  
Epilogue- Four years later.

Essays are hard. Well, duh, essays are hard. Water is wet. Fire burns. Earth is on the ground. The only things that the frustrated college student had written down so far were “Myrcella Baratheon” and “The”. Ugh. 

Damn it all to hell, she decided, collecting her bag and leaving the park bench. She made her way to the ice cream stand on the sidewalk, marveling at how today was an astonishingly beautiful day. The sun was out, there was a light wind slipping through the trees, and not a cloud in sight. 

A blonde woman in a blue cotton dress passed her, handing an ice cream cone to the little girl beside her. The girl’s green eyes caught Myrcella’s attention.

They were the same shape and shade of green that Myrcella saw in the mirror every morning. Funny. The little one tossed her vibrant red hair, and followed her mother across the grass, chatting away in High Valyrian. 

Myrcella smiled to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also recently started writing Rickon/Shireen fluff and you can read it on my profile.


End file.
